


Meet me as I am

by thistleghost



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, The Skatechelor, True Love, Victor is the Bachelor, reality show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistleghost/pseuds/thistleghost
Summary: Phichit bites his lip. "I don't know what it is, exactly--some sort of televised competition involving figure skaters. There are a lot of rumors online already...it's really been blowing up on Snapchat. Chris thinks it's a way for Viktor to choose a student for his coaching debut next year. I'm not sure, but it sounds like something he would do. Lots of drama, cameras 24/7. That's pretty much Viktor's trademark, right?"Yuuri takes a moment to think it over. Phichit's description of Viktor as an attention seeking dramatic doesn't sit well with his imagined idol, the gentle, brilliant, princely figure some naive part of Yuuri still holds close to his heart.But the truth is that Yuuri doesn't know the real Viktor. In fact, his only interaction with the real Viktor was a failed attempt at a staged fan photo. Maybe Viktor is so famous that he's forgotten how to be a genuine person, so in love with his own perfection that he craves constant admiration.(The ISU hosts a reality show! Viktor is the bachelor who thinks he's there to fall in love. Yuuri is a contestant who thinks he's there to win Viktor as his coach. It takes them a while to realize they can have both.)





	Meet me as I am

Yuuri's cheeks are still flushed, his hair plastered sweat-sticky against his forehead when he gets home. His body aches with the low pain of a good few hours of skating, but he feels happy, loose, like he fits in his own skin.

When he reaches the onsen, he enters through the kitchen to avoid anyone noticing his return. It's been a few months since his failure at the Grand Prix, but the people of Hasetsu are still prone to gushing over him like he didn't finish last after an embarrassingly broken performance, begging for photos, or asking uncomfortable questions like when he'll get back to competitive skating. He doesn't want to remember the Grand Prix. He doesn't know how to fake a smile in their photos, and most of all, he doesn't want to have to think of when he'll get back to competitive skating. Or _if._

In the kitchen, Mari is busy over the stove, stirring a pot of fragrant stew for the guests' dinner. She doesn't look up when he comes in. She knows it's him. "Close the door, Yuu-chan," she mutters, "you're letting all the cold air in."

He shuts the door with a gentle click and unties his winter boots, placing them carefully on the entrance mat so he won't track the last of this season's snow all over the floor. He shucks off his jacket, and winces when he realizes his athletic shirt is damp with sweat from his practice.

Yuuri rubs his hands together, forcing the last of the chill from his fingertips, and follows the scent of the stew over the stove. He leans against Mari's side and watches her ladle move around and around through the rich brown broth. She doesn't speak, but she doesn't push him away. The firm strength of her shoulder against his cheek is comforting. It's been weird, to come back home and realize that Mari is an adult with a full life, as if somehow he'd expected her to remain frozen in time--exactly as she was when he left for college. Or even younger, the age she was when he started to skate competitively. Fifteen? Sixteen?

But she's not a teenager. She's grown up, more serious now, always busy around the onsen. Yuuri's proud of Mari but seeing her this way makes him a little sad, too. He feels left behind, like he's still her little kid brother, playing at being a skater to avoid growing up. The last time he was home was at eighteen, before he left for college. Coming back here feels like tumbling right back into his eighteen year old self, shy, unsure, and always dependent on his family.

Mari, with her quiet affection, has made living in Japan again easier. His parents fussed over him when he came back, his mom stuffing him with katsudon until he felt sick, his dad giving him endless encouraging speeches about failure and growth that only made him feel guiltier for letting everyone down. But Mari just hugged him tight, letting him hide his wet-rimmed eyes in her short hair. She always smells like cigarettes and green tea, her fingers scented with the fresh ginger and spring onions she chops for their dinner each evening.

Mari was the one to realize how much he needed distractions. At first it was just little things, _Yuuri could you steam the rice for me? Could you help me fold sheets?_ and then bigger ones, _Yuuri, I made a shopping list, could you go to the market? Can you cook breakfast tomorrow? Yuuri, would you repaint the spare room's walls?_ Now Yuuri is competent at doing many of the things it takes to keep the onsen running smoothly. He gets lost in the calming repetitiveness of folding sheets, chopping vegetables, sweeping the guest rooms. When he's busy, he forgets about his old life as _Yuuri Katsuki, one of Japan's dime-a-dozen competitive figure skaters,_ and he's just Yuuri, being useful for once.

Eventually Mari shrugs him off. "You smell like sweat," she says. "You should go wash before dinner."

He pokes her in the ribs. "You smell like smoke."

Mari shrugs and reaches down to turn off the stove before placing a lid over the pot of stew to keep it warm until dinner. She brushes a hand through her hair and slips a band from her wrist to bundle it into a wispy bun at the nape of her neck.

Yuuri settles himself at the table as Mari gets them each a glass of water before joining him. This has become their evening routine. She spends the afternoon cooking, and he spends the afternoon skating, and at the end of the day they catch each other up. There's something nice about sitting in the quiet steamy kitchen with Mari's dark eyes watching him. She's a good listener.

"How was Ice Castle?" she asks. "And Yuuko?" She always asks it like that. Never, _did you do any quads, Yuuri?_

He takes a sip of the water and smiles. He was only brave enough to rekindle his friendship with Yuuko because Mari told him she was stressed with the triplets and needed a break from her constant parenting responsibilities. He'd gone rushing to Ice Castle the next day, eager to give her an outlet, only to find her as sweet and composed as ever. He'll never understand how she manages to run the rink and care for Axel, Lutz, and Loop so effortlessly. Of course, it was Yuuri who really needed Yuuko, and she had taken him back with easy affection and a bright smile, opening the rink and her house to him with unfailing kindness. He should be angry that Mari lied to him, but instead he's grateful that she knew exactly what he needed.

"Yuuko's good," he says. "The triplets came today. Axel can skate backwards now! And Loop--she's so brave, she only fell down once and then she stood right back up. Yuuko's a good teacher for them. I try to help but they don't listen--all they ever want to do is take videos of me practicing jumps."

Mari nods. "Kids these days," she jokes. It's a constant tease between them, the idea that Mari is like an old woman _._ Yuuri's always prodding at her for her careful routines and her dedication to the onsen, but the truth is he just wants her to let go of her serious shell and take time to do things for herself. She rarely visits friends in Hasetsu, her main hobbies aside from cooking seem to be smoking and dyeing her hair in colors that shock their mother. He's too shy to ask her, but he's almost sure she's never had a boyfriend or fallen in love. Of course, neither has he.

Yuuri finishes his water and drinks a cup of tea while Mari tells him about the three batches of marzipan croissants she attempted today. "I hate laminated layers," she says. "I can't even _think_ about butter anymore."

Yuuri leaves Mari muttering about baking times in the kitchen to soak himself in the hot springs before dinner. He prefers bathing late in the day, when most of the guests have left. He strips off in the empty wash rooms and rinses his body quickly, trying not to focus on the weakness of his skinny limbs and soft stomach. Since returning to Hasetsu, he's struggled with his wildly fluctuating weight. Constant anxiety and depression in the first weeks after his failure led to overeating and bloating that made him hate his body so much even the thought of food made him feel sick. He'd starved himself for a month, losing all the fat and most of his muscle mass. He hadn't been skating then. Now that Yuuri's skating again, he's working his body back to a healthy weight. He's not anywhere near his physical peak, but he's happy with what he's accomplished, even when he struggles to view his own body with pride. He feels stronger now than he has in a long time.

To distract himself he peers down at his feet, bruised with the usual wear and tear of daily practice. Most figure skaters are proud of their broken feet. It shows their dedication to skating, their willingness to accept pain in pursuit of creating something beautiful on ice. Yuuri is no different. He's always been reassured by his bruises, always taken them as proof that all his work has produced something tangible, at least. Skating in competition used to feel like a dream. Now skating feels like just a part of life.

When Yuuri goes to Ice Castle, he skates mainly for himself. Sometimes he does a few tricks for the triplets, but mostly he just puts on a song he likes and tries to skate to the music. He makes up fragments of programs he'll probably never perform, but he's starting to be OK with that. He's remembering how good it feels to skate, how fast his feet move as his blades cut through the ice, how it's sort of like flying when he gets a jump right. It's nice to skate without an audience and a panel of judges watching everything.

Yuuri wraps himself in a soft towel before he heads towards his favorite pool, the one that's half hidden behind a few bushes and a stone statue. He sits on the edge, dipping his feet into the steaming water and groaning as the soreness drains from his muscles. After a few moments, he eases his body into the pool, leaving his towel folded at the edge of the spring. He closes his eyes and takes deep, slow breaths as he tries to clear his mind.

Yuuri's meditation is broken as Minako bursts into the bathing area and darts towards his pool, her heeled boots clicking on the stone floor, her coat flying behind her like a banner. She waves a blue envelope in one hand. Yuuri flushes and sinks deeper into the water as she calls out to him.  
           

"Yuuri! I have a letter for you!" she says. In a few more steps she's standing over him, smiling that determined sharp grin that Yuuri knows as a combination of power and danger. He hunches deeper into the pool until the water reaches his neck.

"Minako-sensei--why are you here?"

She bends and waves the envelope in front of his face. It looks normal enough to him, smooth paper with the ISU logo embossed on the sealed side. It's probably just an announcement of the past season's standings, and he knows exactly where he'll be. Right at the very bottom. It's where he belongs, but that doesn't mean he wants to see it printed in official navy-blue ink.

Since he's been home, Minako has been feeding him a constant stream of fan letters, endorsement offers, and competition news. She's certain that competitive skating is his destiny, that he can start again and drag his career out of the early grave he pushed it into. Even when he goes to her dance studio for ballet, her critiques of his form are punctuated with less than subtle remarks about how happy she'll be to see him back on the ice. He's never made her any promises. _Maybe I'll just dance,_ he's told her before, but she always shakes her head. _You were meant to be a skater, Yuuri. Don't let go of your dream._

The envelope stills in front of his nose, the elegant ISU logo mocking him. "Ah--thank you, Minako," he says. "I'll look at it soon." It's a lie. All of Minako's mail is in a box in his room, under his bed. He's not sure if he'll ever read it.

She sighs and pulls the envelope away. "Okay, Yuuri. I'll take that as a promise! I'm staying for dinner since Mari promised to save me some of the good sake. She told me to tell you to stop lazing around and come help her serve, so I'll see you soon, yes?"

Yuuri nods, "I'll be out in just a moment."

Minako pauses, still hovering.

"As soon as you leave me to change," Yuuri prompts.

"Fine, fine, I'm going," she says, and hurries out of the bathing room.

Yuuri helps Mari and his mother serve the guests their dinner. It's a quiet time of year, and the few guests are mostly older couples. Only a handful recognize Yuuri and they don't react to his presence with more than a friendly smile.

After washing up, they eat their own dinner in the kitchen, where Mari and Yuuri's dad have already finished a bottle of sake. Hiroko shakes her head at their loud laughter, but Mari is eager to have a drink after a busy day, and soon even Yuuri has a glass in his hand. They fill themselves with stew and rice, Hiroko pressing seconds and thirds on each of them. Minako, always quick to get drunk, tells Mari longwinded stories of her time as a famous dancer.

"And then I went to Vietnam," she announces, "where I fell in love with a prince, and then the most beautiful model. And when she left me to go to Italy I fell in love with a rice farmer and spent a month working the terraces with him! He was a good man. Strong hands. A wonderful lover." She raises her eyebrows at Mari, who blushes and turns away to change the television channel.

Yuuri chokes on his sake when he sees the man being interviewed on TV. It's Yakov Feltsman, coach of Russian figure skating prodigy Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov, who's been Yuuri's hero since he was six, who Yuuri named his first dog after, who inspired Yuuri to compete. Viktor, who didn't even realize Yuuri was a contestant at the Grand Prix, who asked if he wanted a commemorative autograph while pulling Yuuri to his side with a professional, impersonal grasp on his shoulder. Viktor, whose smile was as blank as a mask until Yuuri pulled away without his autograph. Viktor, who looked only vaguely perturbed as Yuuri hurried away from him, biting back tears of shame.

Even seeing Viktor's coach makes something in Yuuri's stomach clench. He sets his sake glass down with a clash, too hard, and Mari looks at him with concern.

Yuuri doesn't look at her. He doesn't want her to know what he's feeling. "Could you turn it up?" he asks, trying to keep his voice even. Mari adjusts the volume and Yuuri shuffles closer to the television, desperate to hear every word that Yakov is saying.

The interview is in Russian, and Yuuri only recognizes a few words by ear, but there's a rough translation scrolling at the bottom of the screen. Yakov strokes his beard as he answers the interviewer's question.

" _Yes,"_ he says, " _I was...worried at first. I'm used to being a coach, not running whatever this thing is. And I didn't want Viktor to jeopardize his training. It's true that this will interfere with his off-season practice. He's told me that he doesn't plan to compete next year, but I don't believe him. He has delusions of coaching...ha!...that... the point of this thing...not...lacking dedication--"_ his voice raises to a shout and the interviewer takes a step back. On screen, the translation seems to be missing words. Are they talking about some sort of off-season ice show? How is Viktor involved? Will he be the lead?

The interviewer makes a worried gesture with his hands and Yakov snaps his mouth shut guiltily.

" _So why_ did _you decide to become involved? What changed your mind?"_ the interviewer asks.

Yakov adjusts his hat. " _It wasn't my idea,"_ he says. _"This is all the ISU's plan. People don't appreciate ice skating like they used to! Now sports are all about speed. No real artistry! It's my hope that a show like...however scripted and dramatic...encourage interest in the sport."_

_And what about Viktor, why did he want to become involved?"_

_"Hmph! Something about life and...he said. But really we're selling something...need his face to sell it."_

_'Thank you for your time, Mr. Feltsman."_

_"Thank you."_

With the interview over, the screen switches to videos of Viktor's most recent gold medal performances. Even in miniature, pixelated form, the way he skates his program is mesmerizing. Yuuri tries to tear his eyes away from the screen but he's compelled to watch as Viktor soars into his jumps, his silver hair shifting around his face like a halo.

Hiroko takes the remote from the table and clicks the television off. The screen goes dark, and Yuuri looks down at his own hands, balled up in his lap and sticky with sweat. He rubs them dry on his pants and gives an exaggerated yawn.

"Heading off to sleep?" Hiroko asks him, stroking a warm hand over his cheek.

He smiles and nods, glad to not have to speak. She pats his cheek once and starts to clear the table as he stumbles to his feet.

Yuuri says goodnight to Minako, who's so drunk she kisses him wetly on the forehead, and then climbs the stairs to his own quiet, dark room.

As soon as he closes the door behind him he slumps to the ground, glad for the cool hardwood floor under him and the peace of being alone. He scrubs a hand through his hair and angrily brushes a few tears from his face. Sometimes he feels settled in Hasetsu, like he's part of a new life here, a life that is as worthy as that of an international figure skater. But sometimes the memory of what he's lost opens up like a picked-raw scab and the pain of no longer being who he used to be is as cold and heavy as ice coating his whole body.

After pulling himself together and taking a long shower, Yuuri bundles himself in his softest pajamas and settles into bed with his phone. He scrolls through Instagram for a few minutes, but most of the people he followers are figure skaters and it's too difficult to look at their posts without reminding himself of last season. With the help of a few carefully worded searches, Yuuri finds a video of puppies going to the beach for the first time. In one video, a tiny bouncy corgi is taken to the beach, where it springs towards the waves and then shuffles back, yipping, as the tide rushes in. The little dog reminds Yuuri of Vik-chan, and there's an ache there, too, but it's bittersweet, nostalgic more than sad.  

Yuuri's eyes are drifting closed when he hears the chime of an incoming video call. He blinks blearily and sees that his screen has lit up with Phichit's smiling photo.

Yuuri sits up and presses the green button to accept the call, laughing as soon as he sees Phichit's face. He's covered in a greenish clay mask, his hair held back with a silver headband. Phichit twitches his nose in mock offense and sticks his tongue out at Yuuri. "Are you laughing at me, Katsuki?"

Yuuri does his best to look innocent. "Phichit-kun! No, never! How are you?"

Phichit gives him an easy smile. "I'm good, Yuuri. It's been a while. I've missed you! And so has Ciao Ciao...He's taken to using you as an example in practice. _Phichit, Yuuri would_ never _over rotate a triple loop like that. Phichit, Yuuri spent_ hours _practicing his figures._ It's a miracle I don't hate you."

Yuuri winces at the mention of his coach, but smiles at Phichit's gentle teasing. Phichit has a rare combination of innate talent and unconscious joy that Yuuri lacks. He manages to make skating look like something he was born knowing how to do rather than something he's endured grueling hours of training to learn. It's hard for Yuuri to believe that Ciao Ciao would ever use him as an example for Phichit.

Phichit waves at Yuuri from his phone screen. "Heey, Earth to Yuuri? Are you there?"      Yuuri nods, "Yeah, sorry! I'm here. Are you in Thailand now?"

"Yeah, I'm here for another month and then I'm going to Ru--um, Yuuri, have you watched the news lately? Have you seen anything about the ISU and Viktor? Or about that show they're making?'

Yuuri shrugs, settling further into his pillows. "Yeah, I saw an interview with Viktor's coach today--only part of it, though. What's all this about?"

Phichit bites his lip and remains quiet for a long moment. "I don't know, exactly--some sort of televised competition involving figure skaters. There are a lot of rumors online already...it's really been blowing up on Snapchat. Chris thinks it's a way for Viktor to choose a student for his coaching debut next year. I'm not sure, but it sounds like something he would do. Lots of drama, cameras 24/7. That's pretty much Viktor's trademark, right?"

His words come out all in a rush.

Yuuri takes a moment to think it over. Phichit's description of Viktor as an attention seeking dramatic doesn't sit well with his imagined idol, the gentle, brilliant, princely figure some naive part of Yuuri still holds close to his heart. But the truth is that Yuuri doesn't know the real Viktor. In fact, his only interaction with the real Viktor was a failed attempt at a staged fan photo. Maybe Viktor is so famous that he's forgotten how to be a genuine person, so in love with his own perfection that he craves constant admiration.

On Yuuri's phone screen, Phichit looks anxious, unlike himself.

"Is everything OK, Phichit?"

"Yes--fine. But Yuuri, I'm going. I got a letter, an invitation to attend whatever it is and Yuuri you--"

Yuuri's stomach clenches and he interrupts Phichit before he can say any more. "Phichit, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you! I'm sure whatever it is will be something great."

Phichit's still blinking too fast, still tugging at his lips with his teeth, and Yuuri can see suddenly how young and lovely he is. He has his whole career ahead of him. He'll be famous, someday. Of course Phichit deserves an opportunity like this.

"Yes, thank you, Yuuri, but the thing is so--" Phichit begins, but Yuuri can't listen any more. He _loves_ Phichit, loves him so much that his own feelings are tearing him apart because he feels so proud and happy for his friend but also so--not jealous, no, but _devastated._ He's been left behind. The ISU, or Viktor, or whoever's running this thing--they don't even see him as a possibility. Viktor would never coach someone like him.

"Ah, Phichit, I think I have to go," Yuuri babbles frantically. "It's really late here. Can I call you tomorrow? I'll have time to catch up then, OK? I'm so proud of you! Love you! Say hi to your family and Ciao Ciao for me. Goodnight!"

Yuuri sees a flash of Phichit's confused face, his mouth half open, before he jabs the end button and disconnects the call. He texts Phichit a quick apology for ending the call so abruptly. _Sorry! Phone was abt to die! ;(_ Then he turns his phone to silent and lets it drop onto his covers.

He pulls his comforter around him and takes a deep breath. It's OK, really, not being invited. He has a life in Hasetsu. He will cheer on Phichit from afar, and help Mari in the kitchen, and keep trying to teach the triplets how to skate. He doesn't even want to see Viktor again. He has his posters, beautiful images of Viktor as the angel Yuuri wishes he truly was. Those are better than reality. Yuuri has enough here. He should be happy.

It's not so much the lack of an invitation that stings, though. It's the fact that in the eyes of the ISU and Viktor, Yuuri isn't a real figure skater any more. He's just a boy with a pair of skates, a boy who has wasted far too much of his life chasing a childish dream. Tomorrow he'll begin anew. He'll let go of any thoughts he might have had of competing again. He'll just be Yuuri Katsuki, that nice young man who helps out around the onsen. He'll be uncle Yuuri to the triplets, and when Mari has kids he'll be their uncle too. He'll take care of his parents. Maybe he'll get a new dog. He can see the thread of his life in Japan stretching out ahead of him, as flat and as even as the line between the sky and the sea on a still day. It won't be a bad life.

Yuuri sighs and rolls over in bed, tucking his knees towards his chest. He fumbles in his covers until he feels the cool weight of his phone and places it blindly on the desk next to his bed. As he draws his hand back his fingers brush over a sharp paper corner and he freezes. Yuuri's sitting up and tearing the blue envelope open before he has time to consider what might be inside, what might _not_ be inside. He doesn't have time to worry. His fingers scrabble at the thick card inside. _Not_ last season's competition results. Something else. Creamy paper, silver embossed script that glints in the low moonlight sliding in through his half-shuttered window blinds.

He uses the flashlight on his phone to read the card.

_Dear Yuuri Katsuki,_

_We are pleased to announce your invitation to participate in On Ice, the ISU's first sponsored competition and televised show. On Ice will be held in Saint Petersburg, Russia,      this year. All contestants are current competitive figure skaters, so allowances will be made to support off-season practice._

_On Ice will provide competitive skaters in the senior division the chance to network with one another, hone their skills, and gain new platforms for sponsorship opportunities. To preserve the integrity of the show, we cannot offer more information in this initial invitation. If you are able to commit to participating in On Ice, please contact the competition and show director, Mr. Yakov Feltsman, for further information._

            _Sincerely,_

_ISU President Jan Dikjema_

Printed below the invitation are Yakov Feltsman's contact details, along with a list of other people involved in the production of On Ice. Lilia Baranovskaya, Mila Babicheva, Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor.

Yuuri stares at Viktor's name until it goes blurry, and he realizes he's hyperventilating a bit, his heart racing enough to feel the beat of it when he brushes a thumb over his own wrist. He presses his thumbs together and forces himself to breathe slowly. This is a good thing. The ISU chose him, Viktor chose him.

He peers at his glowing phone and sees a stream of messages from Phichit.

            _Yuuri?_

_I tried to tell you!_

_You never listen..._

_Did you get the invitation?_

_Ciao Ciao sent it to Minako because you wouldn't respond to his emails!_

_Yuuri are you there?_

_Are you mad?_

_Please, Yuuri! ;(_

_Yuuri...we're going to_ RUSSIA!

            _We're going to see Viktor ;) ;) ;)_

_Ok Yuu, I'll call you in the morning. <3_

Sometime between the first message and the last, Yuuri begins to smile. He promised himself only half an hour ago that he would let go of his skating dreams, but hope is bubbling up inside his chest. How can he say no to something this big?

He sends Phichit a stream of hearts in apology, and then a single text.

            _We're going to Russia..._

**Author's Note:**

> Love you for reading <3\. More to come!


End file.
